Page 4 of Calling on the Matchmaker
“I’ll hurry, so I will.” She was already ducking inside the livery’s back entrance and heading for the closest stall. Low voices wafted from the front of the establishment, but from what she could tell, the rest of the building was deserted. Only the scent of damp hay and horseflesh greeted her.
The shutters in a window above one of the stalls were open, providing enough light that she could see well enough. She slipped into the stall made of planks rather than split railing. The door, too, was solid, giving her the privacy she needed to change.
She dropped her bag and started to work her way out of the habit. The loose-fitting garment was easy to divest. Her boots and stockings took a little more effort to shed. When she reached her damp chemise and drawers, she crossed her arms and shivered.
She hadn’t thought to bring a change of undergarments. Though she was daring, she wasn’t daring enough to go without them. She’d have to make do.
With cold fingers, she fumbled with her bag, wrestling to remove her bodice and skirt.
The sudden crunch of hay and gravel under footsteps entering through the livery’s backdoor brought her to a halt. As the steps drew nearer, she held herself motionless and ceased breathing lest she draw unwanted attention.
The crunching paused near her stall. Then a moment later, the latch began to lift.
Her heart jumped into her throat. She cast around for a place to hide. But with only a trough built into the wall and a smattering of grooming equipment hanging from pegs, she had no place to go.
The door inched open.
Ach. She’d done it again. She’d gotten herself into another predicament.
2
Riley wasn’t sure why he’d followed Finola Shanahan into the livery. But here he was.
He pushed the door wider. Why had she pretended to be a nun? And why hadn’t she corrected him when he’d addressed her asSister?
Maybe he wanted answers. Or maybe he was intrigued by a woman who had the audacity to pinch his cheek and call him a young lad.
His grin kicked up just thinking about it, and his mind replayed the first moment he’d exited the bank to see her stepping off the boardwalk into the mud. An internal warning had gone off, one he seldom ignored. He’d watched her begin to struggle. And he’d witnessed the flash of panic cross her face when she realized she’d run out of time, that she was going to be hit by the hackney.
By that point he’d already bolted into action. He’d known he wouldn’t have enough time to whisk her out of the way of danger. So he’d done the only thing he’d been able to think of—try to stay between the team of horses and the hackney wheels. He’d gotten knocked around by the horses and wouldhave the bruises to show for it. But it hadn’t been as bad as he expected, and he’d kept her safe, which was the important thing.
Of course, the whole time he’d been rescuing her, he assumed she was a nun. He hadn’t stopped to question her identity until her brother crossed into the street and shouted her name.
After that, it had taken him only a second to place her. Even though she didn’t have the same red hair as her father, she and her brother had distinct Shanahan features—especially the dimples in their chins.
The Shanahans had gained a reputation for their charity and kindness—especially to immigrants. James Shanahan owned large portions of Kerry Patch and had originally allowed immigrants to squat on the land for free.
Over recent years, Shanahan had built tenements and charged a low rent that even the poorest newcomer could afford. From what Riley could tell, the fellow was one of the better landlords who actually made repairs and improvements on his buildings whenever he could.
Riley rested his hand against the stall door. Maybe that’s why he’d followed Finola. Because he was afraid that any other man who realized she was the daughter of one of St. Louis’s millionaires might take advantage of her.
Or maybe he was just fascinated with her.
Women normally didn’t dismiss him so easily. Especially pretty young women. Not that he cared about pretty young women. He’d lost his desire to be with a woman the day Helen left downriver on theMonarch. In the two years she’d been gone, he’d been perfectly content being single. And he had no plans to change that.
As the stall door widened, he paused. He ought to head right back to the wagon shop. He had heaps of work waiting for him. Rafferty Wagon Company had more orders for wagonsthan the Mississippi had gnats. In fact, they had double—even triple—the orders at the start of 1849 than they’d had for all the first half of last year.
In part, the demand was growing with the influx of immigrants into the city that had been dubbed the Gateway to the West. When he and his dad had moved to St. Louis back in ’30, the city had still been relatively small with a population of only fourteen thousand. Almost twenty years later, it had swelled to sixty-three thousand.
It was still growing. Every day, steamboats arrived from New Orleans, weighed down with immigrants eager to claim land in the West. And every day, a portion of those people came to the Rafferty workshop, seeking wagons that could take them to their dreams.
The rumors that gold had been found out in Sacramento Valley in California were only adding to the need for wagons. Men were hardly talking of anything else these days, so much so that now more than just immigrants were itching to head west. Droves of fellows were waiting for the heavy ice on the upper Mississippi and the Missouri to break up, with every intention of traveling to California and trying to strike it rich.
The truth was, Rafferty Wagons couldn’t keep up with the demand anymore, not even with the new apprentices and several journeymen they’d recently hired.
Riley took a step back. Duty called. He’d taken enough time out of his day to place orders for more lumber and iron and to run other errands. He had only a couple of hours left to finish trussing the underside of the axles on his current wagon project before he would have to head over to his campaign headquarters for the evening.
He started to turn away, but at a scampering from inside the stall he hesitated. He’d watched Finola send her brother away and then sneak in the back door. Was she in some kind of trouble again?
